Tempest Desire
by LinBean
Summary: Complete In the dismal recesses of Arima’s mind there is a past that is to remain untouched. But what will he do when Miyazawa challenges the sinister side of himself that even he cannot control? This is pretty dark.
1. Part I

**Summary:** In the dismal recesses of Arima's mind there is a past that is to remain untouched. But what will he do when Miyazawa challenges the sinister side of himself that even he cannot control?

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Disclaimer:** As much as I would like to claim a jealous and psychotic person such as Arima, he belongs to Masami Tsuda - and, of course the equally obsessive Yukino Miyazawa. Toodles!**

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** **A/N:** This started out as a one shot because I have always wanted to write about that dangerous voice that lurks inside of Arima's head. (The pretty head that it is). HAHA! 

**-THANK YOU** Cheshire Grin for being the best editor on the whole entire planet! No solar system! No Galaxy! Well - you get the point right?

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**Tempest Desire**

**Part I**

Yukino listened to the gentle flapping of curtains against the panel of her windowsill. The breeze whistled at her as it occupied her room, stirring her auburn hair onto the crown of her forehead. She sat at her desk; the very one she had assembled at every evening since her childhood. The place she had declared as her haven. Today it was not the refuge she had grown accustomed to since receiving her first "A" in kindergarten. It seemed that on this day—nothing could give her comfort.

In her hand, Yukino clutched a small sheet of notebook paper that had been folded carefully by the person whose handwriting it contained. Since the moment it had been given to her, Yukino had read it a total of thirty-two times in a short span of two hours. Continual folding and unfolding had worn it down to a shadow of the efficient piece of composition that it had once been. Thirty-three, she thought to herself as she opened it again to scan the contents within.

-

Souichiro gazed at his ceiling while he lay in bed, finding comfort in the darkness that emerged at the approach of late evening. His eyes burned with the strain of staring at one object for too long, and it took him a moment to realize that he had not blinked for several minutes. He relaxed them and as he did a gust of air collapsed from his frowning mouth.

There came a tap on his door and a muffled voice entered his thoughts. "Souichiro, is everything alright? I'm putting a tray of dinner outside your door in case you decide later that you are hungry."

"I'm fine." He told his aunt.

"Yes, of course." She replied after a pause. "But, if for some reason you would like to talk about anything, we will be up for a while."

Arima did not respond.

"Souichiro?"

"Yes?"

"We—we love you."

I hate myself, he thought.

-

_Miyazawa,_

_It is clear to me now that there are, perhaps, only a few things in my life that I will have the ability to decipher as either fact or fiction. Please know that my love for you has always been and will always remain fact. _

_When I set out to unmask that emblem of perfection you had fashioned through your accomplishments from childhood until now, it was without the purpose of exposing my own secreted self. But little by little, you began to unravel those carefully arranged layers that I had protected until only recently. And for a while, it was what I wanted. I wanted you to see the real me as you had the moment you first fell in love._

_But even now, the lover you have come to trust is not who I truly am. I am not that person who you discovered as a mirror of yourself. I am a different person, a person I fear you would find it impossible to dote on if you became acquainted with him. I never wanted you to have to know that side of me, Miyazawa. I wanted to shield you from ever seeing me as I do myself. I have been unfair to you while you have opened your heart to me willingly. I am still hidden, and I have intentionally allowed your vision of me to remain obscured. But, I cannot do it anymore. The gravity of my lie has fused itself with my guilt until it took up residence in my conscience. It is for this reason that I cannot continue deceptively as a contributor to this relationship, nor can I allow you to trouble yourself with someone so worthless. _

_With this said, I believe it is best that we not be together. It is the decision I have made, although it has taken this long to admit it to you and to myself. I can no longer look at you without feeling the full weight of my mistakes and shortcomings. I love you Miyazawa, and yet the very potency of that love is exactly why I cannot allow you to encounter the other self that is present within me. I'm so sorry. I aimed to never have to say these words to you. I hope that you can forgive me…someday._

_Love,_

_Arima_

The sound of paper being vigorously crumpled disrupted the silence in Yukino's room.

The letter was so cold. So unlike the boy she had grown to appreciate these past two years. Even the admission of his love for her left an empty cavity in her chest where her heart had once been. "Arima! You jerk." Although there remained a present scowl on her features, the tone was only mildly angry. In fact, Yukino was more disappointed than anything else. Is it true—that I wasn't able to reach him? If so, then this is my fault.

She moved to toss the letter into the pink wastebasket flanking her desk, but she couldn't somehow. Slowly, she disentangled the ball, plucking a red sharpie from her pencil holder. With a contemplative sigh, she touched the ink to the surface of wrinkled paper.

-

She will have read the letter by now, Arima guessed as his dark gaze found the telephone, half expecting it to ring. His hands folded into themselves and he brought his chin to them. He could no longer speculate upon the decisions he had made, what consequences might befall him. It was in his past. Just like the choices of his parents, there was nothing to be done.

The phone rang and he jumped. Had he not expected her to call? Well, maybe not so soon. Miyazawa was seldom the most sensible person when it came to her emotions. Would she yell at him? Would she cry until it became even more unbearable for him to accept his actions?

"Miyazawa," he whispered as he approached the black object. His hand fell around the receiver.

"Hello?"

-

Yukino refolded the creases exactly as Souichiro had done, and stuffed the article into her pocket. She whirled around with the intention of freshening up before she left, but screamed in surprise. Kano stood in the doorway, and at the unexpected outburst of her sister, she yelped as well, taking a few hurried steps backwards.

"Sis?" Kano asked. "Are you OK? What's got you so jumpy all of the sudden?" The younger sister, who so often took the role of eldest due to her impeccable understanding of human emotion, peered uncertainly at Yukino. "You've been crying," she realized out loud.

Yukino's proud face fell. She would not let Kano see her shed a single tear. "It's nothing." Never before had she been so relieved that all of her years of practice at phoniness had not gone to waste. "I'm going out for a bit," she announced as she moved toward the door.

Kano let her get halfway down the hallway before she called out. "You don't have to pretend, Sis. If you're hurting—well there isn't all that much I can do for you to take that away…but I can listen."

How right she is, thought Yukino. She gave into a smile. "Thank you, Kano."

The younger girl allowed her to leave, wondering if her grief had anything to do with the solemn look Arima had given at dinner a few nights before when he thought no one was watching.

-

"Want some company?" A seductive voice leaked from the receiver of the phone.

Souichiro blushed despite his temperament. "Asaba, you are absolutely incorrigible. Do you know that?"

The playboy gave a short laugh. "I just thought we could cure that sulky pouting you managed to keep up all day at school by a little late night rendezvous."

"Hideaki, I am really not in the mood right now," Arima ran frustrated hands through his black bangs as his slim body folded into a chair.

"Hmmm—that sounds promising. Do you think I could get you in the mood?"

Arima moaned. "If you are so horny, why don't you take it out on one of those 'Merryland' girls you used to have following you around all the time?"

"They can't satisfy me like you—"

"I'm hanging up." The threat delivered itself crisply into the air. Arima gazed into the darkness. Outside, he noticed the moon had not fallen completely to the night. The sky emitted a red glow. It reminded him of…that night. The bloody hue of the sky he recalled on the day his parents had abandoned him still haunted him even now. A shiver worked its way along his spine as he recalled the sound and scorch of that hand across his face.

"Aw—come on! You're no fun. Are you having a Miyazawa crisis or somethin'?" When Arima did not answer as quickly as expected, Asaba sighed heavily. "You guys are fighting?"

"Well actually, I think this is the calm before the storm—but something like that."

"Did you—?" Asaba paused with caution. He had to figure out how to word his question before he proceeded. "Did you—I mean—you didn't—uh—hurt her…or anything?"

"No." Arima replied blandly, knowing full well that Asaba's question had a double meaning. In the past few months, the kendoist had become entirely aware that his best friend knew of the aggressions that only seemed to process where Yukino was concerned. Hurting her feelings was one thing, but physically harming her—it was a fear that Arima often had himself. Yes, the letter had been written with the intent to set her free, but the truth was that even the thought of losing Yukino far surpassed any of the pain his parents might have caused. She had been the source of his happiness for such a long time now, if she decided to never speak to him again, Arima was unsure of how he would react. He could not live without her. This much he knew.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Asaba cleared his throat. "Well, will Miyazawa talk to me about it—because, honestly, I cannot stand it when my friends are fighting."

"You don't have any friends."

Hideaki snickered. What a smart ass. "Why don't you let me play matchmaker and get this all fixed up for you two? I can be very persuasive," he purred.

"I don't think this is the kind of thing that can be mended, Hideaki. It's—it's just—too complicated."

"Too complicated for your best friend?" His tone had fallen to tenderness. It was seldom that he showed his compassionate side, but for some reason, when it came to those two, it was easily ripped right out of him.

"I—I don't deserve her!" Souichiro's hand clenched so firmly at the affirmation that his nails bit into the skin of his palms. "The way I feel about her, Asaba—it's not healthy. The things I desire—the thoughts I allow to creep into my daydreams. It's just—I cannot permit myself to defile someone so pure of heart."

Asaba wanted to comment that the girl his friend now spoke of was not exactly the purest of heart. Instead, he spoke with a bored air. "Are you finished yet? Why don't you let Miyazawa decide for herself who deserves her? I mean—geez, you said it yourself—you have been pining away for her almost as soon as you met her freshman year. And she loves you, Arima. Wake up. We're all fucked up inside. And you had a terrible injustice occur at an impressionable age. Get over it, man. Just let it go. Choose happiness." He paused. "If you don't get your act together, then you really will lose that girl."

"I broke up with her."

Asaba let the idea sink in for a bit before he chanced another two cents. "That doesn't matter. Do you think she will let you go?"

"I told her about the real me, Hideaki. She knows. I—I told her." Arima hated crying, but there was a stubborn lump forming in his throat that he was having difficulty containing.

"Arima—this is Miyazawa we are talking about. She won't let that stand in the way of her devotion for you. You really are crazy, ya numb-skull." Hideaki's laugh was a little more hesitant than before, but he was confident that this matter would result precisely as he had concluded.

At that moment, Arima heard an incessant hum surrounding him. It seemed, at first, that it had permeated the dense walls of his room. He moved to the window to peer outside.

"It's raining," Asaba noted.

"Yeah."

-

"Shit!" Yukino sputtered as she ran beneath the scarlet moon. It was raining. She felt the coldness seeping into her thin jacket, where it began to attach itself to her clothes. Minutes later, she found herself in front of a house. It was completely dark. Not a single light shone from the many windows belonging to its massive structure. Its presence was so cold. Like me, she thought. Her lips quivered as the heat steadily escaped her wiry limbs.

For a moment, she felt grounded. She had worked up the nerve to come this far, but there was something that bound her Mary Janes to the damp pavement. A thought entered her mind, and while it settled somewhere in her amber-rimmed eyes, Yukino's solid gaze fastened on the house. With determination, she strode up to the door, her finger ready to press the button that would trigger the doorbell.

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**A/N:** More to come soon! Let's take a poll, shall we? What should Yukino do? 

**A.)** Storm up and punch Arima, screaming, "You jerk! How could you dump me first?" (A personal favorite of my editor, CG)

**B.)** Skip over and plant a passionate kiss on his lips, crying, "Oh Arima! Say it isn't so?"

**C.)** Claim the number one spot on finals as she runs off with Hideaki Asaba into the sunset! (Maniacal laugh! I know I would)

**PLEASE R/R!**


	2. Part II

**A/N: **Alrighty! So here is Part II! I'm sorry for it's length, being that it is shorter than both Part's I and III, but I promise, if you enjoy it, I will send the third out soon after.

Also, if any of you like **"Fruits Basket"** please check out my other fic entitled **'The Plumb on Her Back.' **I would love the support!

**WARNING**: I have upped this fic to rated R only because I don't want to offend anyone with some of the subject matter. Furthermore, in this chapter, I use the words "Dear God," and would like to apologize up front if anyone feels insulted. I could not find anything else with the same amount of intensity. Sorry!

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**Thank you everyone for your comments!**

**evil tsubasa: **I apologize for the lack of 'darkness' thus far. Maybe this will give you a taste for the chapter to come. Although the last part is quite…um…well...er 'tempestuous' it does end on a cheesy, high note. Hope you can find something enjoyable to take from it. Until then…enjoy Part II

**Akujunkan: **Thank you for the compliment! I feel quite honored since you seem to be so perceptive about these characters as well as with my own personal writing style after reading only one measly chapter. Hehe. Well since 'a', 'b' and 'c' were all far from the truth, how about this for 'd'?

**MakieToAyame: **I began 'Kare Kano 2' yesterday and am excited to finish it! You're writing style is fantastic; don't ever say that. Thanks for your review! It always means a lot when someone actually wants to take the time to submit one. But I am sure you know this, being a writer yourself.

**Briar Noir: **As much as I would have loved for Yukino to be the ever so passionate and deranged lover—I hope this part will compel you to read more. There is quite a bit of juiciness to come. Hope you stick around for it!

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**Special thanks** to Cheshire Grin for prereading my chapters even though she is 'allergic to cringing.' I know I like to load on the cheese! Sorry CG; please forgive me!

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**Disclaimer:** So I have to admit to all of this fraudulent writing…I know, I know. -Ahem- Yukino, Kano, Asaba, Arima and his mother do not belong to me, nor am I the true mastermind behind Kare Kano. That praise goes to Masami Tsuda. -curt bow-

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**Tempest Desire**

**Part II**

"What will you do, Arima—without Yukino by your side?"

Hideaki's questioned echoed in that dark place of Souichiro's mind, forever plaguing his scrutiny. He had absolutely no idea how to address the inquiry and revealed this with a wordless sigh. Instead, he traced his finger along the cool glass of the windowpane, his eyes blazing when lightening struck.

The prolonged silence continued until a deafening clap of thunder was heard, which forced the solemn teenager to take a step away from the window. How could he have known that at precisely that moment his supposed ex-girlfriend had rung the bell that should have echoed throughout his house? Instead, the noise was swallowed up by the rumbling sky.

"I don't know." He finally answered.

"You took her virginity. You don't think she is just gonna let you waltz out of her life? Those things are important to girls." Asaba reasoned.

"Miyazawa is not like that." Souichiro spoke softly. "She is not the kind of girl who will use something special to her as a means for revenge. And besides—those things—they are important to me too."

Asaba privately agreed

-

Maybe he isn't home, Yukino deliberated. She was seized with a death-like shiver that forced her to lean on the door of Souichiro's house. I should just turn around and go home. Of course he would avoid me. He can read me like a book. He isn't at the top of our class for nothing. The more she thought about it, the less nerve she was able to hold onto.

Yukino stumbled a couple of steps away from the entry, longing for the comfort of her warm futon. Maybe when she got home she would take Kano up on her offer after all. And then she realized—deep down she was still a child herself. Sure she had skipped most of what one would consider a normal childhood, but it did not mean that she was incapable of wanting someone to depend on. I used to depend on Arima, she recalled. Yukino was suddenly showered with guilt as she remembered that day—the day she had first conveyed that he could depend on her as well, the night they had shared their first kiss with the storm surging outside of the school. Amidst choking tears, Yukino's words were delivered to the rain, "I wish you could have had more faith in me."

-

"Well—has she called?"

Souichiro's patience was dissolving with each question.

"Or stopped by?"

It occurred to him that she might not even care. He felt his insecurities start to take effect. They often entered his conscience in this manner—like a drug superseding his ability to reason. Could it be that this is what she wants?

Another loud sound interrupted their silence. More thunder? "What was that?" Souichiro asked.

"Uh—judging by the fact that I cannot really hear it, I am guessing that it is coming from your end, which can only mean that Miyazawa is at your door," came the blunt reply. "Dumby," Asaba added a second later almost endearingly. "You really are clueless."

Miyazawa is here? Now that he listened closely, he could hear the adamant pounding at his front door. Souichiro felt his palms begin to sweat. He had to prepare himself—for the worst. Anger, sadness—they didn't amount to the excessive drama that his Yukino could wreak when she aimed to.

'She is not yours anymore,' an intruding voice pierced his thoughts. It slipped around his brain until it's coldness crept into his blood, freezing him where he stood.

"I guess I will let you go then." Asaba announced, his voice filtering through his friend's panic.

"Uh—yeah," Souichiro muttered. "Thanks Hideaki."

-

Yukino's fists were painfully frozen and turning blue from thrashing them against the surface of the Arima's door. Either Souichiro was not home or he was just plain ignoring her. "Fine then," Yukino spat to no one in particular. Her defiant chin jutted out to the rain and she was just about to turn away when the door flung open with a desperate clatter. At the sight of him, her body nearly collapsed.

-

Souichiro felt his heart sink when he glimpsed the disheveled girl who had always appeared remarkably polished and composed. Yukino stood amid the relentless downpour as if she sanctioned it to punish her body. He noticed the pink lips quivering and thought she might be crying, though he could not exactly tell in the cloud of rain that separated them. Her eyes glared at him uncertainly as if she did not recognize him. The chill of the storm glided beneath his pajama shirt and he shivered. It was then that Souichiro knew he could never deny her. Wordlessly, he held out his arms to her. Yukino consented.

-

Before Souichiro went to the closet for clean towels, he lit the fireplace. His brain detonated a million different thoughts at once as he moved about in a trance-like state. 'This is your fault!' 'Did you think you were doing her a favor by letting her go?' 'Just look at what you did to her!' 'You are a worthless, disgusting pig!' At the linen closet, Souichiro's hands clenched fiercely around his skull to block out the voice, the voice that was his own.

When he reentered his living room, he could not help but freeze. The delicate glow of the fire cast rippling shadows about the refined living room. They played tenderly upon Yukino's head as if directing his gaze there. Her face was turned to the side, and still—he could not deny it. She is so beautiful, he thought. Even in the way his couch engulfed her rain-soaked body. Even the limp hair that fell into her eyes, and the sound of her small, uneven breath. Souichiro wanted her. He wanted to feel the slender limbs clinging to him, the childish whisper teasing his ear. He wanted to smell the girl in a mix of their sweat and passion as he drew her closer and closer. His body trembled.

Souichiro's feet gradually moved until they carried him in front Yukino. His dark eyes peered down at her pink cheeks while wrapping a large towel around her body. "You should get out of those clothes," he instructed.

Yukino stiffened. The command in his voice scared her somehow. Though truthful, the comment struck her as perverse and cold. It etched itself into her goose bumps until a new shiver took over her body. Detecting the slight tense of her muscles, Souichiro collapsed to his knee in front of her, worried. "Miyazawa." He allowed the word to release lovingly. "Are you? Are you all right? You look feverish. Why don't I give you something else to wear?"

Yukino peered into the black pearls in front of her. That was the Arima she knew. With a small nod, she permitted him to lead her up the stairs and down the hall to his room. She stood in his doorway as he fumbled through a drawer for something dry. When his body turned to her, his gaze fell on her so intensely that she could tell he still desired her.

Yukino trembled from something uncontrolled by the storm raging outside. I want you too, she thought sadly as she remembered the letter. There was a change in his expression while a thought took affect in his mind. He was struggling with something, and clearly losing. Instead of handing her the clothes, his arm extended stiffly and his face fell away from her. Her knees were knocking as she moved numbly toward him.

When Yukino took the clothes, she was disappointed to discern Souichiro walking past her toward the door so that she could dress in private. Without thinking, her hand shot out and caught his arm desperately. His eyes on her burned in an almost pleasant way that she could not explain. And then she willed it to happen, with all of her being. Yukino wanted it more than ever before. His lips fell on her almost unkindly and she felt her guilt evolving. She wasn't making this any easier for him. But she had to wonder, do I really want to?

Souichiro sensed his heartbeat quickening as he seized Yukino's mouth with his own. He could feel his body coming apart, the frenzy within him increasing to a head that rivaled the tempest shaking his window. Dear God, he wanted to own her.

He is so aggressive; Yukino could not help but notice. His hands crashed against her waist as if to snap her in two. Is this what he is talking about? This ravishing side that he has only now exposed? She forced her hands between them in a rough attempt to stop him, catching his gaze steadily as she did. He is trembling, she saw. He looks like a scared child.

"What is it?" Yukino asked, drawing in a shaky breath. "Tell me, Arima or else I will never understand. I want to know." She was frantic. "Let me help you."

Souichiro fought to replace the disoriented passion that roused his blood with the mask that he was so accustomed to. 'Tell her,' the voice whispered unfeelingly into his ear. 'Tell her all of the filthy dreams you have about her. Tell her what you would do to her if it was up to you!' There was a wicked laugh that transpired inside of Souichiro's mind.

No. I can't tell her! I can't! He internally rebuked himself. But I will lose her if I don't, the unbearable thought branded itself into his mind.

'You will lose her either way.' The voice threatened. 'She was never yours to begin with…'

Stop it! He yelled back. Stop it! That's not true! Souiciro let out a faint whimper, as his head fell into his hands again.

Yukino watched him silently, her befuddlement turning into alarm. He clutched his head with such obvious distaste that she was certain he wished to tear it from his neck. "Arima?" She choked in her immobile state.

"I—I'm afraid," he confessed curtly. But as soon as the words were released, he bit down on his tongue.

"Afraid? Afraid of what?" She pressed.

"It's nothing." He told her in an attempt to end the discussion. The panic she had witnessed only a moment before vanished and was replaced by a stanch expression.

Yukino moved closer to him. "Arima. You can tell me anything. Let me help. I want to—"

"No!" He shouted defensively, his sentiments rising with the inflection.

"Why?" Yukino demanded. "Is it me you're afraid of? Is that it?"

Souichiro let loose an exasperated sigh, though tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. "No. That's not what I meant."

"Then what? Tell me."

"I said it was nothing!" his voice broke.

"It is me! I know it. You're afraid to trust me, afraid I won't understand!" Yukino affirmed as she stomped her foot.

"No! That's not it at all Miyazawa!"

"Yes it is!" That's why you can't tell me. It's because—"

"I'm afraid of myself!" he roared.

Yukino froze at his admission and even more at the wild expression that imbued his eyes. "Your…self?"

Souichiro cursed gruffly when he realized his mistake. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides while his nose flared in an attempt to calm his fury. He turned from her stonily; resuming his clarification with a somewhat defeated air. "I'm afraid of the person that I am, and the one that I become as a result of my feelings for you."

Yukino was silent for a moment; his outburst had startled her. Would she provoke more anger if she questioned him further? When she did speak, her tones were hushed. "What is it, exactly, that your feelings do?" Her fingers were clumsy against his temple and brow as she removed the bangs concealing his eyes.

He grew rigid at her touch. "I don't know. I can't—I can't talk about this with you," he said stiffly as he strode towards the window.

"But why, Arima? We are supposed to be—" Her sentenced trailed off. They were no longer boyfriend and girlfriend. Or so the letter said. But, what exactly did that mean for them now? Yukino's teeth clenched as she watched his back. She didn't care about the letter. She knew he loved her. He had to love her!

Yukino marched up beside him. "Arima!" she shrieked.

But she halted when she noticed his expression. There was something peculiar about the way he stared at the moon—the apprehension he emitted while allowing it to bath him in it's light. Almost as if it frightens him, she noted. Souichiro shivered, but did not budge from where he stood.

Yukino placed her hand firmly on his shoulder. "It's OK," she announced warmly.

He turned to her, trying to rid the shakiness in his limbs. "Miyazawa?" His eyes held a far away look.

Yukino grabbed his hand, pulling him towards her until the remote expression disappeared and he saw her standing there. "Do you love me?" she asked abruptly.

He nodded slightly. "I love you."

Gently, she rephrased her former question once more. "What does that love…do to you?"

Souichiro hesitated. "It's shameful." He admitted quietly. "It's so overpowering that I act out of some instinct that I don't even recognize. Almost like I feel…corrupted." His hand covered his mouth quickly to prevent anything more from being said.

Yukino watched the anxiety that made itself present in his features. She could not pretend that she understood. But she was determined. There came the familiar tilt of her jaw into the air. "Show me," she dared.

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**A/N: **-chuckles- Sorry—another cliffie. It's hard not to since this fic is so short. Well, all will be revealed in good time. Until then, I am wondering about this ending myself. I'm thinking alternate endings so everyone can be happy. Let's try another A, B and C—shall we? 

**A.)** Arima spirals out of control and in his blinding madness, he kills Yukino, only to awaken next to her in a pool of her blood! (Whoa…morbid!)

**B.)** Yukino feels the full weight of his anxiety as she watches Arima lose himself to the power of his other side. There is nothing left to do. She leaves him.

**C.)** After being scorched by the fire of Arima's dark side, she realizes that despite her fears, she loves him…and with that positive emotion she will stay by his side.

**D.)** Any other suggestions…?

You guys are great! I will update as soon as I can!

LinBean

**PLEASE R/R!**


	3. Part III

**A/N**: Finales are the best—well let's hope this one is up to par. Sorry for the delay…Thanks for all your fantastic comments! You guys are too kind!

Warning: Slight Lime!

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**MakieToAyame**: As much as I would love to turn Arima into a machete bearing, crazed lunatic -oh wait, he is!- I'm not sure it really works in this story. I could rewrite the ending that way, but fluff tends to prevail when I am the writer. Too much tragedy does not become the young couple. 

**evil tsubasa**: Can't say I would mind Arima growing rigid from my touch. Oops! (slaps hand) Bad Lina. Sorry! This part has it's ups and downs as Yukino tries to find the balance between his darkness and the light she longs to bring to him. I am waffy by nature, but I find this to be the most realistic ending. Am I wrong?

**Rowan23**: 'Great reads'? HAHA! Thanks for the compliment. I want to write more Kare Kano—but I am being consumed by two 'Fruits Basket' fics and a 'Rurouni Kenshin.' KK is so much fun to write because the emotions are always running high. I hope you consider some of my other fics 'great reads' and that you post some of your own up as well!

**Sayuri**: You're very first Kare Kano fic? Well bravo! (issues round of applause) You were so sweet to read POHB -Plumb on Her Back- and then jump to 'Tempest Desire.' Thanks so much! You were correct to go with your instincts concerning my style -by choosing C-. However, I hope there are still a few surprises that you didn't expect. (devilish laugh)

**Her Spell**: Yeah…the sexual side of Arima is almost more frightening than the thought of his violent side. Personally, I think it is more likely that he would mentally harm Yukino through sexual violence than through physical violence. It's improbable that he would ever try to hurt her out of rage or anger. Lust, however—it's a different kind of passion entirely.

**DanyChic**: Thanks for the compliment! I hope this chapter isn't as offensive as I fear it might be. (cowers behind laptop)

**Cheshire Grin**: Silly! You were the one who argued that Yukino wasn't forceful enough! I commend you for choosing 'B'. That's so like you. Now that you have had the time to recover from a few 'cheese' edits, I hope you do not cringe all that much at a final look at this part. -p.s.: no matter what…the ending was just too damn fluffy to include all that imagery- Sorry!

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**Special Thanks** -for prereading- to the Cat with the Chesire Grin!

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**Disclamer**: No! They aren't mine (pinches herself) I'm not dreaming!

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**Tempest Desire**

**Part III**

Souichiro's eyes went unfocused for a moment as he took in Yukino's proposal. Show her? Is that what she had said? His left foot moved, and then the right, as he stepped away from her, shaking his head insistently. "No," he said in a low murmur. "No, Miya—"

She was in front of him, her small fingers seeking him hungrily at his waist. "If it scares you this much, Arima—I want to know." But then her head lowered with a defeated air. "A long time ago—I told you that you could depend on me. That wasn't a lie. I'm not going to run away or let you do the same just because you are scared of what might happen." Her eyes defied him now. "How dare you think so little of me!"

Souichiro blanched. Here it comes, he thought. She is going to explode. Her head will become three times the size that it is normally. Her eyes will burn with a fiery vengeance, and a snake-like tongue will emerge from that wide mouth as she unloads all of her vindictive emotions. His shoulders shrank as he waited.

But instead of words, an impact to his cheek left him off balanced until his body slumped to the floor at her feet. Arima peered up at her uncertainly as his left hand rubbed the offending welt. "What are you—?"

But she was crying. Or—almost. There was a collection of tears that she held stubbornly at the base of her ginger eyes. Even more apparent was the trembling lip that betrayed her unsteady breath. Arima made to stand, but she buckled to her knees in front of him. His hands itched to touch her. He wanted to feel those tears on his skin so that he knew this moment was real, that this raw display of sentiment was for him. Perhaps it would convince him that he deserved her after all.

"How could you ever believe that you are in this alone?" She asked with incredulity. "That whatever dilemma you may find yourself in will be only yours to handle?" The seal that was Yukino's obstinacy broke, and a tear snaked from the shelter of her lashes. She fell into his arms with the same earnestness that she had clung to his waist. "Oh Arima," she whispered nuzzling her head into his neck.

Souichiro's hands tightened around her, molding the writhing body to him. He didn't know what to say. She was crying because of him. He wanted to dry her tears and kiss away her sorrow, but his body felt like marble. Heavy and cold. This is entirely my fault, he realized. I did this to her. I made her cry!

'You are worthless.' 'You can't even protect the people you love!'

Souichiro's grip on her shook. No! That wasn't true at all. "I wanted to protect you from me!" He shouted at last—but for whose benefit, it was unclear. His voice filled the room, until it welled up in Yukino like a single melancholy balloon. "I couldn't let you really see me as I do myself because I thought you might learn to hate me. I don't—" Yukino felt his muscles tense around her. "I don't think I am meant to be happy."

Wrestling from the comfort of his arms, her eyes narrowed into slits. "Since when did you become such a wimp, Arima?" She interrogated. "You can study until you are delirious; you are a two-time national champion, not to mention second runner up, at Kendo; you have loving guardians who have done everything in their power to make you happy. What gives? All you have to do is accept it." She slipped her fingers under his chin, wrenching it upwards. "Choose happiness."

That was the same advice Asaba had given. Was it really that easy—to choose happiness? Wasn't that what he had been trying to do when he conceded to his love for Miyazawa freshman year? Even then—always there was that voice so similar to his own, convincing him that his efforts to forget his past were futile.

"It's not that simple," he grumbled

"Why?"

"You wouldn't understand," he said harshly while attempting to shrug off the grip of her probing eyes. Souichiro refused to let himself be cornered again. "I can't tell you. It's—it's crazy, Miyazawa. I just don't have control over it."

"When do you lose control?"

He noticed the words had faltered while she released them, as if she already knew the answer. Souichiro put his head in his hands like one gathering a small child away from a dangerous object. Why am I telling her all of this? He scolded himself.

'It's because you think she can save you.' The voice said. 'You still want to cling to misleading fantasies about her? But she cannot help you; she cannot bring you happiness. She will leave you when she realizes what you truly are.'

"Arima," her face was inches away from his.

Souichiro blinked. How long had she been talking? "Y—yes?"

She pronounced the words firmly. "When? When do you experience a loss of control?"

"I don't want to talk abo—"

"Tell me!" Yukino bellowed, watching her boyfriend flinch. "I want to know." The determination that sealed her expression was not to be taken lightly.

"When I'm with you," he whispered as though weakening.

She nodded, unsurprised. Her gaze drifted to the window, taking in the moon, which shadowed them in it's vibrant, red glow. "Why?" she asked, simply.

"I—" he tried to speak, but failed to produce anything that resembled logic. "I don't know," he said, resignedly.

Her mischievous glare was upon him now, it's intensity causing him discomfort. Souichiro always grew uneasy when he noticed that impish expression settling into her narrowed eyes. "What does it feel like?" She wanted to know.

Souichiro groaned. Of course she would try to pick him apart. Only Yukino would want to determine the mechanics of it. "I'm not a specimen, Miyazawa," he said with a laugh. "I'm—"

To his surprise, her grinning lips dared to plant a kiss on his chin. "But you are—you are my specimen." Her eyes flickered with lunacy in a way that he imagined a mad scientists' would.

Souichiro gave a short laugh. "Of course. How could I forget? Does this have anything to do with your plans for world domination?"

"Precisely," she divulged, stretching her slender form alongside him on the floor. "That's the plan. Date and marry a rich and intelligent man. Handsome too!" She piped. "Use him as a means to weasel my way into society. They will be dazzled by my brilliance and offer me a law degree in my second year. And after I conquer my way through legislature, they will implore me to take my place as Prime Minister." A maniacal laugh erupted from her lips.

Despite the twisted image she had concocted, Souichiro longed for the kind of life where Yukino could coexist by his side. Rather than agonize over it, he decided to placate her warped sense of humor. "Uh—I thought you said you wanted to take over the world."

Another giggle. "That comes later." She peered at him roguishly. "Oh, but don't worry, Arima. I won't discard you as I climb my way up the social ladder. You can be right beside me if you want."

He finally yielded to curling up on the hard floor beside her. "Yes, but will you have room for me in your bed with all the other lovers you will accumulate?" He teased.

"It'll be king sized."

Souichiro smirked with a resilient sigh. He was both amazed and relieved that Miyazawa could lighten the mood with such little effort. He knew that her current display of lively behavior was intended to cheer him up. "What am I going to do with you?" He asked shaking his head.

"Not break up with me," Yukino surprised him by saying quickly.

He glanced at her and saw the pleading sincerity in her eyes. I hurt her, he realized. A lot. "I'm sorry, Miyazawa. I never meant to—"

"Just don't do it again," she warned with a hesitant laugh.

Souichiro wanted to snicker at the demonic face she gave him then, but the truth of it was—nothing had really changed. Her going over there, her telling him she wanted to help—none of that changed the person he really was. "Miyazawa?"

"Yes?"

"Sometimes I—I get jealous when I see another male talking to you," he confessed.

"Well—that's natural. I think it's a part of human nature."

"But sometimes—I think it isn't so…human. Sometimes it makes me violent. It makes me want to…" He stopped, ashamed.

She was silent for a while. "Like you were when you kissed me before?"

"Yes."

She hesitated. "Is that what it is, Arima? Violence? Is that what you are convinced has made you so much like your father?"

The mentioning of his father quieted his tongue for a moment. Eventually he continued with, "I think it's more than that." How could he tell her? He didn't understand it himself. And how would she react? No! I have to try, he thought with resolve. Souichiro glanced sideways at her to find the round eyes watching him expectantly. It was then that he decided to put his faith in her completely. "I feel like there is another part of me," he began, "separate from the person you know—a part that persuades me I am worthless, that I will never be happy. It's strange," he said awkwardly.

"That sounds like a guilty conscience to me—or your insecurities getting the best of you."

"No. It's not like that. Not really. It's something more—evil than that." Souichiro quieted at the last remark, a silent berate deferring his thoughts. Not too much at once, he scolded. The last thing he wanted was for Miyazwawa to run from his room in terror.

"You are not evil, Arima."

He noticed she was looking at him tenderly, and matched her gaze. "But do you ever have unnatural thoughts about me?" He asked.

She laughed. "Well sometimes—I am so overcome with my feelings that I just want to smother you!"

Souichiro blushed. "Uh—Miyazawa. Smother me?"

Her giggles subsided. "Well not violently." The smile remained.

"I don't want anyone else to have you," he announced almost coldly.

Yukino felt a shiver pass over her back. "I don't intend for anyone else to have me," she told him.

"But it drives me crazy to think about it. If someone ever tried to touch you, I would—I know that I would hurt them."

The menace of his tone alarmed Yuknio. She sat up and looked down at him. There was a severity to his features that she did not recognize. "You shouldn't be so insecure, Arima." Her clammy hand found his, and encircled it. "You already have me."

He clutched her hand with more intensity. "I'm still afraid of losing control."

Yukino slowly leaned down so her lips nearly touched his. "The only way to overcome your fear is to challenge it." She paused for a second as a definite plan surfaced "Let's find out."

Souichiro struggled to push upward onto his elbows. "Find out?"

She nodded nervously.

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

"Whatever is bottled up inside of you, Arima—let it all out. Just let it go. Let's see what happens. You'll never know unless you try, right?"

He glared at her. "That's crazy! What are you saying?"

Yukino bent over once more, her hands placed firmly on his shoulders. She whispered the words again into his mouth. "Show me."

Souichiro accepted the kiss dispassionately at first. Was she trying to provoke him? Miyazawa hardly ever initiated physical advances. When she did, he usually found it necessary to bring it to a halt. He couldn't allow himself to get too excited. And now she was asking him to lose control?

As soon as her tongue slid languidly into his mouth, Souichiro felt his panic dissolve. His hands reached around her until they slipped under the back of her shirt to caress her damp skin. He was reminded of everything he loved about this girl. The scent of her body, the slight touch of her hair on the tip of his nose, the taste of her mouth. They took possession of him the moment he came in contact with her.

He was shocked when she whispered. "Stop controlling it. Just let yourself go."

Souichiro felt the pit of his stomach knot feverishly. A flush formed on the crest of his cheeks and his blood boiled while her words echoed inside of him. When had her voice ever sounded that seductive?

He moaned as his mouth slipped from her lips to her neck, his tongue gliding over the tender skin. His hands were all over her, and the shallow exhales that she made triggered an even more concentrated desire to have her for himself. She wanted him to lose control? Was that it? Yukino had uttered those words to him. What would allowing that kind of passion to materialize do to him? More importantly, what would it do to her? Still, he wanted…

Yukino drew in a heavy breath of air when she felt Souichiro's teeth sink into her shoulder. It did not hurt exactly, but the rough quality of the action caused her body to tremble. She opened her eyes to gaze up at him and noticed a far away look that she could not reach. "Ari—"

With abruptness, she felt his hands travel totally beneath her shirt as it was snatched from her body. Yukino did not have time to blush as she normally did when he first beheld her bare skin, nor did Souichiro take the time to gaze. Instead, his mouth fell upon the small of her stomach, his fingers making effectual gestures over the belt of her skirt. She was shocked when it came off with more ease than it had ever before.

Look at him! She yelled at herself. Find him; reach him. Help him! Stop lying there like a scared child. Yukino placed her hands carefully around his face and slowly brought him down for a tender kiss. "Arima," she whispered lovingly.

She felt his knees move between her legs, and her thighs froze instinctively. With more vigor, he forced them apart further so that she cried out. "Ari—" He silenced her with another kiss that crashed their lips together in something that no longer resembled the gentle union they normally shared. But when she forced her eyes to look at him, she was terrified.

Arima had…changed. Everything from the normally sleek muscles that now bulged on the exterior of his sweating skin to the sound of his ragged breathing. He can really hurt me if he wants to, she realized for the first time. I'm so vulnerable. The thought floated on the surface of her fears, sapping the strength from her limbs. But worst of all was the cold expression that had seized the soft contours of his face. Never before had she considered Souichiro to be dangerous. But this person—this person…she did not know him.

His body was intruding. It scared her. She did not want it. "Stop!" she screamed.

Souichiro heard her crying as he continued, but there was another sound that was even more deafening. His own. 'Give her what she wants. She asked for it.' It whispered callously. 'Show her how ugly you truly are.'

Yukino forced her arms between them with all of her might, only to feel Souichiro hold them violently above her head. An urgent sob escaped her mouth, and she cringed as she detected his breath on her ear. NO! NO! She shouted silently. What have I done?

I want her, Souichiro's thoughts stirred in a one track mentality. I want every part of her body to be mine. Even the blood coursing in her veins; I want to become one with her until it aches. 'She deserves this,' the voice told him.

His head dipped down toward her earlobe and brushed the side of her face. It was wet. Tears? Was she crying? Had he hurt her? He pulled back hastily, and as he did, he watched her scoot away in a panic. She could not look at him, but her arms slipped protectively around her nearly naked body. She sobbed when her back came to rest at the edge of his bed.

The dull voice still lingered. 'She deserved it.' No! Souichiro's paranoia howled inside of himself. What had he done? He had taken advantage of Miyazawa. He had willingly forced himself on her while she was clearly telling him 'no.' I _am_ a disgusting pig, he thought as he caved into a series of sobs that were similar to those of the girl he had betrayed.

Yukino wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and looked carefully at him. He was crying. She had never known him to sound so hysterical before. Never so ruffled and oppressed by his emotions. With uneasiness, she concluded that this was the moment, her true test of sorts. She had witnessed, first hand, the side of himself that he had intended to keep from her forever. But, even more shocking was the possibility that this might only be some of the darkness that pulsed within him. What should I do? She wondered.

I love him. The idea throbbed inside of her heart as she instinctively rushed to his side and wrapped her arms around his head, cradling his body with her own. "Arima," she whispered softly.

"Don't," he told her, attempting to pull away. But Yukino held on tightly, brushing the dark hair from his forehead gently. "I'm—I'm sorry," he said after awhile.

She nodded, although he could not see. "Is that what you really want from me?" she asked hesitantly.

Silence. And then, "I—don't know."

Her heart slumped at his confession, but it only made her stubbornness swell even more. "It's OK," she told him with a positive manner. "Next time—next time, we can—"

"What are you talking about, Miyazawa?" He glared at her. "I can't ever touch you again. Not after—not after doing that."

"Tell me what you felt." Yukino urged, wanting to understand.

"Like I wanted to own you, not—not love you." He said after awhile.

"And why is that, do you think?" She cleared her throat. "If there is some driving fear that compels you to want something like that, then why do you let it? I told you that I am yours to love. But I will never be yours to take, Arima."

"It's like another voice—telling me to do these things." He jumped at the pressure of her fingers on his chin guiding him to look at her again.

"Tell it to shut up," she smiled weakly.

In the trembling of her voice he heard something else—something serene. Why is she so calm? He wondered. "Did I hurt you?"

"A little." She admitted. "But you hurt me more by giving me that letter."

Souichiro was astonished. The letter had upset her more? But surely after him actively forcing himself on her like that, she would detest him enough to feel relief at breaking up. "Huh?"

Yukino stood then, gathering her clothes and resuming her typical, confident air. When she had dressed, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her skirt and peered down at him. "You are strong, Arima. I know you are. We can take this one day at a time." She chanced a timid smile. "I have to admit that what happened—it scared me a little bit. Well—a lot. But…what kind of a girlfriend would I be to run when the man she loves needs support? Better yet, what kind of a person would I be?" She slipped on her shoes as she spoke. "I don't understand what it is that haunts you, Arima. Maybe I never will. But I do know that in time, you will become a strong and capable person who can rid himself of his ghosts." She looked down at him with conviction. "I truly believe that. And in the meantime…you can depend on me."

Souichiro stared at her, dumbfounded. "O—okay," was all he could manage.

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other then," she laughed. Slowly, she pulled her hands out of her pockets, producing a folded piece of paper. "Here ya go. I don't think I was quite as successful as you strived to be at eloquence," she declared as she tossed it. "At least this time."

He caught it quickly, and with it, her arrogant afterthought.

"I'll let myself out," she informed him with a wave of her hand as she moved toward the door. "See you tomorrow at school."

In the hallway leading to the stairs, she put her hand to her heart in an attempt to calm it's excessive beating. Am I really doing what's right? She asked herself. Yukino knew that she loved him. It was the only thing she was certain of. But loving a person so destructive to himself…and possibly to her. Was it safe? Was she prepared to handle the danger that might be involved? After all, she wasn't a doctor. She didn't know how to help him other than by being there as much as was required. Love was tangible…but also perfectly breakable. She never would have believed it when she initially fell in love.

Yukino was suddenly reminded of the moment she first reached out and seized his hand during their class committee meeting in freshman year. She had been so terrified at the time, a simple gesture—but it had scared her to death. By doing it, she would have breached the margin of independence she had striven to maintain nearly her whole life. But when she felt his warm palm against her own, his thumb rotating securely to accept and seal the act of her love, her heart had relaxed. For the first time in nearly ten years, Yukino was in need of someone else, and that knowledge generated contentment.

She made up her mind at that moment. As long as I love him, I refuse to give up. "I won't allow you to give up either," she alleged fiercely as she stepped out into the chilling night air.

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Souichiro stared with bewilderment into the empty doorway that Yukino had disappeared through. He remained in that trance long after he heard the front door shut.

It was awhile before he remembered the paper in his hand. Souichiro sat back comfortably to unfold it, though it was still quite wet. When he managed to pry the clinging layers apart, he found it to be a running mess of ink. He also noticed the angry, red dye of Yukino's marker outlining several parts of what appeared to be the original letter he had written. Besides grammatical corrections, he spotted a couple of not so elegant words that revealed how she felt about him at the time.

Souichiro snickered in disbelief. That was his Miyazawa. Never letting down her competitive guard even for a second. He slid onto his back again and raised the sodden material up to the visage of the crimson moon. The color shone through, illuminating the paper. Black ink subdued by red, the contrasting shades blended until they consumed the page in a murky brown. Studying it with an abstract eye, he mentally compared it to their love. "A tempestuous storm of emotions," he said aloud...his and hers.

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**A/N**: And that's a rap! What did you think? Come on—lay into me. I was too soft. I know. But I really wanted to show Yukino struggling with her decision. She loves him—sixteen year old girls think love can conquer all. (shrugs) Hmmm….or maybe she just enjoyed that side of Arima a little more than she cared to admit. MUAUAUAUAUAUAUA! 

Should there be an alternate ending?

Again, thank you sooooooooooooooo much for all of the thoughtful reviews! This was only three parts, but it's always sad when it comes to an end. (waves her kleenex) Take care guys!

Ciao,

LinBean


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